Ritsuka hovered his palms over a campfire, enjoying the warmth tackling away the cold dulling his hands. Mount Enzou's altitude and Fuyuki's sharp winds didn't make for the fuzziest of temperatures to stay around in, but he couldn't complain. He had bigger things to worry about.
Beside him, Mashu was absorbed in the night sky, her mouth slightly agape as she gawked at the star patterned blanket of night above her. He smiled. She had seen the skies of so many different timelines, but each and every time was just as new and interesting to her.
"I see nothing." Ritsuka turned to see Tristan, just a few meters away, staring into the forest, looking up to the top of Mount Enzou where the Ryuudouji temple was.
Roland grabbed Tristan's shoulder from behind and pushed him to the side a bit, turning Tristan's angle of vision to the right a few degrees.
"How about now?" said Roland.
"Still nothing."
Roland shook his head, flowing locks of rainbow colored hair swaying with each shake. The knight preferred to be helmet-less for the most part, only donning his helm in the sewers for fear of dirtying his beauty.
"May I suggest opening your eyes?"
"Silence," said Tristan. "My Clairvoyance works best when my heart is calm, and my heart is most rested when mine eyes see nothing."
"But if you see nothing, fellow knight, then how can you, well, see?"
Tristan tapped one of his ears. "I listen. From sounds, I form images clearer than what your dull eyes could ever piece together."
Roland shrugged. "Well, if that is what you say." He flipped a rainbow lock out of his almond eyes. "I never did understand why you sealed your eyes."
Tristan scanned up and down his line of "sight". "Well, are you asking me why?"
"Perhaps," said Roland.
"I fear I may bore you." Tristan sighed, and continued anyway without asking whether he would be a bore or not. "I cannot help but be drawn to emotions. They are the heavenly flames to which I, the lowly moth, helplessly orbit, only to be burned when I reach out to touch them."
Roland put a hand on Tristan's shoulder. Instead of being an instructive gesture, this time Roland gave the red haired knight a sympathetic squeeze.
"Ah, I do understand that sentiment," said Roland.
Tristan nodded. "My whole life was one full of misguided loves and passions. All because I witnessed dazzling beauty or saw brilliant displays of emotion with my cursed eyes. Each and every time my eyes were captured by passion, I was burned, and all around me suffered."
"My friend, you describe me exactly!" said Roland. "I see now that we are two kindred souls, painters sharing a canvas."
Tristan shook his head. "I would join your artistry, but I have spilled too much paint laden with sins. I have long since retired from involving myself with passions, and these sealed eyes of mine are a testament to that: without my eyes, I cannot fall into emotion's poisonous embrace or beauty's temptations again."
It was Roland's turn to shake his head. "My sir!" He shook Tristan by the shoulder. "To imprison yourself is a waste. I can tell, since you are like me, that you are an artist in every walk of life. Your battles are music, your mannerisms are sculpted, and I do believe that your love life would have been as bright as any painted masterpiece."
Tristan stepped forward, prying Roland's hand from his shoulder.
"That may be true, but I cannot knowingly open my eyes to emotion again. I know that all that awaits me is pain. To step forward knowing I tread into demise is a fool's errand."
Roland laughed, and Tristan, his brows angled in a frown, turned to Roland.
"What amuses you so?"
Roland ignored his question. "Tell me, is it not true that the happiest your heart has been was when you drowned yourself in emotion? Were you not most joyous during love and most thrilled in honorable combat?"
"That may be so, but the pleasures I indulged myself in only became the flint to strike the fires of destruction." Tristan pointed to the scar, a stretched black diadem running vertically across his chest. "This is where a poisonous lance of treachery ended my life. My own life was consumed by my passions. I cannot submit to emotion again."
"Do not fool yourself," said Roland. "Life is nothing without joy. To seal yourself from emotions, from joy, just to help others is madness. I and my fellow paladins indulged in all manners of pleasures, fell into all sorts of disasters, and many times met our deaths from the very desires we craved." Roland smiled. "I am no exception. Yet not once did we think of taking another life's road."
"Is that not selfish? To indulge yourself knowing that you will bring misfortune upon others? Is that not the very opposite of the knight's code?" asked Tristan.
"No," responded Roland. "I let my emotions burn, and of course, I started fires that hurt others. But every time I did, I helped to put these fires out with all my being. In this way, I saved countless people, and at the same time, I enjoyed myself countless times."
"How is that chivalry?" asked Tristan. "You may douse your fires, but the very notion that you set them willingly is..."
"No," cut in Roland. "You mistake what it is to be a knight. To have any semblance of consideration or empathy for others, you must have pride in yourself. Without that pride, then all your acts of kindness are merely things you do out of duty, empty gestures that mean everything to the one being saved, but nothing to you."
Roland tilted his head up in a reflective gaze, like he was remembering something. "I cannot live that kind of life. That is no knighthood. That is sainthood. I am no saint, I am a knight. I live first and foremost for myself, and in living for myself, I will sate my desires. In sating my desires, in knowing them full and well, I know their consequences. And as someone with pride, I will try my best to keep these consequences from hurting as few as possible."
Tristan shook his head, and Roland cut off his reply.
"I remember now. Did you not leave to meet your king to tell her to awaken to emotion? Did you not leave her court, saying that she did not understand human feelings?"
Tristan raised one brow in questioning.
"Yes, but why bring this up?"
"Because you are being a hypocrite," said Roland. "You decide to seal yourself from emotions, fearing their capacity to pain others, and yet you tell your king to open her eyes, when you yourself have decided to shut yours?"
"My king lived her whole life understanding nothing of emotion. I spent mine chasing emotion, and I understand how painful it can be. But I also know how much joy I felt. I cannot bear to think of how she lived her entire life without any of that joy." Tristan touched a dramatic hand to his forehead, like he was mourning a sudden death in a play. "If I can get her to open her heart even once, then I can hope to introduce her to another way to live. I may shun that life now, but I cannot deny that it would be a happier one for her to live."
"A touching response," said Roland. "I expected you to say some boorish drivel like 'I don't care that its hypocrisy, I'll still do it!' like so many boring heroes of justice that I've known. But your answer has many dimensions to savor. You want to set your king on a path of emotion, knowing that it will pain her, just so that she may face some happiness?"
"Yes," said Tristan.
Roland said, "Though it is a colorful answer, that doesn't change the fact that you, my companion here and now, will never dance with me in an afterlife of passion."
"I'm afraid that is so," said Tristan.
Roland wasn't one to back down. "How can you accept such a boring life? Well, afterlife, but the fact that you are already dead means you have even less restraints to be wary of." He held out a gauntleted hand. "Come, good sir, and take my hand. I offer it to seal a bond of artistry between us. I will guarantee that I can offer you the greatest of pleasures and emotions this afterlife has to offer, you merely have to open your eyes to it."
Tristan looked at the hand, and his own hand shook a bit, trembling in hesitation.
"Mind if I butt in," said Ritsuka as he walked up to the two knights.
"Oh, my lord?" said Roland. "But you've already taken my hand. There is no need to seal a bond of artistry between us a second time."
"Nah, not that," said Ritsuka. He faced Tristan. "I wanted to talk about how you wanted to deal with your king."
"Hm?" questioned Tristan.
Ritsuka continued. "I was just wondering, if you want to get your king to open up, then why not lead with example?"
How so?" said Tristan.
"I'm not so sure myself," said Ritsuka. "But I'm sure you do. You're the one who knows your own emotions the best, right? So just act on them. Act on your passions and emotions and all of that. Be happy. I'd like to see that too."
"My lord, what an excellent answer!" chimed in Roland. "If our good sir here were to indulge his desires as much as he wants, he could show his lost king what she's been missing firsthand."
Ritsuka nodded.
"But what of your safety?" asked Tristan. "Fate has never been kind to me. I fear that if I live for myself, I will end up hurting you."
"I'm not that helpless," said Ritsuka. "I summoned you because I wanted every part of you: including all your wants and imperfections. If I wasn't prepared to handle those, then I couldn't be fit to be your Master. Besides, I have Mashu to protect me."
"I...will try to be more myself then," said Tristan. "Thank you for easing my worries, Master. And Roland, my fellow knight, I thank you for showing me a a better way to live."
"Then you've accepted my offer!" said Roland. He snatched Tristan's hand and pulled the knight close to him. With his free arm, Roland locked Tristan even closer to him, trapping him with an uncomfortably tight hug.
Before Tristan could question this, Roland let go.
"You look confused," said Roland. "I am disappointed. I thought I had come across another artist in the way of brotherhood, but alas your tastes in that area are unrefined. Let me tell you, good sir, that the best way to seal a pact of brotherhood is a close embrace. Hearing each others heartbeats through the chest directly, whether with a lover or a comrade, is the most beautiful, most efficient way of going about things."
Ritsuka looked at Roland's armor and said, "But don't you have armor on? How could Tristan hear your heart?"
Roland waved the thought away. "The little things do not matter, my lord. It is the action and the thoughts behind it that counts. And sir Tristan here has better hearing than most, no?"
"I...suppose so?" said Tristan, still unsure of what had just happened.
"Than that is settled," said Roland. He slung an arm around Ritsuka and Tristan, pulling all of them in a huddle. "From this moment forward, we are all brothers in arms. And oh - here's our first mission together as brothers."
"Did you sense the demon pillar?" asked Ritsuka.
Roland made sure to keep everyone in the huddle. Ritsuka thought that Roland's face was uncomfortably close, but he didn't complain.
"No," said Roland. "I would instantly know if Astaroth itself came near. Right now, it feels like a group of beings cloaked with Astaroth's concealment spells have surrounded us."
Roland broke the huddle and drew his sword in a flash of light. Magical energy surged from the knight, forming into flares of gold and silver that wreathed Roland in a blinding shine - letting the whole world know where he was.
"Come forth, skulking heathens! Face my blade head-on!"
Tristan materialized his harp, and took a position a few meters behind Roland.
Ritsuka ran back to Mashu, who had already felt the danger of the situation and stood ready to defend him.
"Mashu, cover me for a sec while we figure out what's happening," said Ritsuka.
Mashu nodded, but her nod was half-hearted, like her mind was weighed down with another issue.
"What's wrong?" asked Ritsuka.
"I've read about this before but...," said Mashu. She looked at Ritsuka with a worried expression. "You don't happen to swing that way, do you?" The 'that way' was emphasized with a nod towards Roland and Tristan.
Before Ritsuka could respond, Darius materialized in a torrent of royal purple, giving form to his massive body in less than a second.
"ISKANDAR!" shouted Darius as he barreled forwards into the forest, his twin golden axes swinging like pendulums. The black giant mowed down the trees in his way, his axes snapping the thick trunks like toothpicks.
"Wait!" shouted Ritsuka, knowing that his commands were pointless now. Darius would never listen or back down if Iskandar was here. This also meant that Iskandar was one of the enemies, and Ritsuka bit his lip, knowing full well how powerful such an enemy was.
"Shielder! Prepare your defenses!" exclaimed Roland as he pointed behind Ritsuka, towards a brilliant golden flash, even brighter and stronger than that surrounding Durandal, which exploded into existence in the thickets of the forest. Even though the burst of light seemed like it started hundreds of meters away, the enormous amount of magical energy that came from it could be felt from kilometers around.
The light surged forward, becoming a massive wall of gold that took up all of Ritsuka's vision. He'd seen something like this light before, only corrupted. There was no doubt about this - it was Excalibur's activation as a holy sword rather than a demonic one. In just a few seconds, he and everyone else around him would be ashes, perhaps even less than that.
He saw Mashu blink. She didn't have time to chant her Noble Phantasm.
A flash of silvery gold darted in front of him, and he saw Roland facing the approaching mountain of golden energy. The knight was like an ant compared to the giant boot of holy power that was ready to stomp everyone out of existence.
Ritsuka saw Mashu take position behind Roland and place her shield directly behind him. The shield gathered magical energy in chalky swirls that wafted like snowflakes.
Roland held Durandal with both hands and positioned the blade so that it lined up perfectly with his head. He looked like those statues of knights that Ritsuka had seen in games or stories.
The chalky layer of fluxing prana on Mashu's shield darted forward and surrounded Roland, giving his armor a lighter, snowy hue.
The mountain of light ate all the trees in its way, drowning out the entire landscape, leaving only that blinding, dreadful glare. Despite being a light of hopes, it looked very ready to crush Ritsuka's hopes.
A cracking sound, like glass being shattered, emanated from Durandal. Ritsuka felt like his body was lighter, and looked down at himself. His body was covered in a film of silver light, and he turned to see Tristan's body was the same.
Excalibur hit them, and Ritsuka could only see gold now. It was like he was a surfer drowning under a massive tide, only this time the tide was the concentrated magical energy of a planet defending holy sword. He didn't actually feel anything, and he wondered for a second if this was what vaporization was like.
He wiggled his fingers, and could tell they were still there. It was like he was swimming in golden light. He could feel his body, but he couldn't see any of it. The raw amount of magical energy packed in the light weighed him down, almost like higher gravity.
It was like the entire beam had phased through all of them. In a few seconds, the light vanished, becoming thinner and thinner until the impenetrable walls of gold blocking his vision became transparent, then sparkles that blew away with the night breeze.
Ritsuka found himself in the middle of a crater, maybe a half dozen meters deep. The silvery film around him faded away, and he yelped in pain as he felt the ground, charred and smoking, burn into his shoes.
While dancing from one tiptoe to another, he recognized that the barren, burning dirt around him formed an open and flat battlefield. He checked up on everyone else, and found them in good shape.
"Shielder," said Roland. "That was splendid. You may be inexperienced, but you took my cue and gave me the blessings of your defensive skill."
Mashu blushed. "You were amazing as well, Sir Roland. I didn't know your protective miracle could extend to the whole party."
Roland looked down at his sword handle, his eyes a bit downcast. "Hm. Saint Denis's miracle lets me share all of my defensive strength to my allies, but alas it can only be used once."
"I hope you don't mind," said Ritsuka.
"Not at all. I still have two more miracles, both embodying overwhelming power. All this means is that I can freely throw myself to destroying rather than defending." Roland smiled, his eyes alight with expectation. "I rather do prefer slicing to blocking."
A disembodied voice rung throughout the forest, echoing so that Ritsuka couldn't pinpoint where it came from. Sounded like Magecraft.
"Greetings. I am Tokiomi Tohsaka, one of the participants of this grand ritual. You, an intruding Magus, have blasphemed against the integrity of this ritual, and thus have been sentenced to die."
"Wait, what?" said Ritsuka.
"It appears that the inhabitants of this singularity have designated us as hostiles," said Mashu.
Tristan cocked his head, straining his ears.
"I sense several presences in the area. Two Servants and four humans."
Roland laughed. "Brilliant! I presume all the original Servants here have banded together against us to make up for their lesser numbers." He ran a hand through his hair, adjusting it with a dainty touch befitting a prom queen. "Which means that individually, we are facing ants. Come, good Sir, let us go hunting."
"Did you not witness this attack just now?" questioned Tristan. "There is no doubt that this is the holy sword of my king, the fabled Excalibur."
"Even better," said Roland. "I've always wanted to face one of the Nine Worthies in battle. Let us see if they deserve the 'worthy' part of their title."
Ritsuka saw a figure materialize twenty meters away from him. When the rain of gold and blue particles settled, he saw King Arthur standing there, sword staked in the ground, challenging everyone.
Roland's smile grew even wider. "And there he, or she, is. The great King of Knights, so they say." He pointed Durandal at Artoria, and Artoriaresponded in kind by drawing Excalibur from the dirt. "King of Knights, eh? How arrogant. I may be a knight, but I will not recognize that feeble little girl as my supposed king with title alone."
Roland dashed forward, his greaves blasting apart the dirt as he propelled himself into the air like a jet fighter, clearing the twenty meter gap in a second.
Ritsuka blinked as a shower of golden sparks exploded from Roland slamming Durandal down on Artoria, who parried the blade with Excalibur.
"Master, I will keep my senses open," said Tristan. "It is odd that the other Servant has not appeared, and it is even stranger that the third Servant has disappeared from my senses entirely."
"Yeah," said Ritsuka. "They might be planning a surprise attack. Mashu, keep close to me."
"Understood," said Mashu as she stood back to back with Ritsuka, her shield poised to defend against any threat.
Ritsuka pressed a palm to his head and concentrated. He couldn't sense Darius in the vicinity. He closed his eyes and channeled his undeveloped magical energy, using his Master's abilities to look through Darius's eyes.
He saw a desert stretching far and wide, with a blue sky devoid of any clouds above. The sun beamed, casting the desert sand in an aura of blazing white. Then his gaze was forced down, and he found that Darius was standing atop a gargantuan elephant comprised of the skeletal remains of his Athanaton Ten Thousand. An entire army clamored around the elephant, jabbing and spearing and stabbing with all their might.
The elephant's hide, made of strengthened bones and the metal of weapons and shields, blocked this infinite assault. The army stretched into the horizon, and there seemed to be no end to their number. The soldiers would have climbed atop the elephant were it not for its vicious movements, rearing and charging around, crashing out eruptions of sand as its colossal feet ground soldiers into paste by the dozen.
Ritsuka cut his connection.
"Darius is fighting in Iskandar's reality marble," said Ritsuka to his party aside from Roland, who battled Artoria a distance away. "He won't be done anytime soon, but thankfully Iskandar will be occupied as well."
Tristan stroked his chin. "An one for one trade, then?"
Ritsuka nodded. "There's no point fighting these Servants. I think we can defuse the situation with just words."
"It will be difficult to convince any of these people with words," said Tristan. "They are all hungry for the Grail. Their reasons will be blinded by that relic's allure."
"Maybe, but we have to save our energy for fighting Astaroth," said Ritsuka.
Tristan looked at Roland who had locked blades with Artoria, their holy swords screeching as holy magical energies clashed with each other. "We would be better served ending this fight quickly with overwhelming force."
Ritsuka scanned Tristan's face. The knight's eyes were closed as usual, but Ritsuka didn't need them to read his mood.
"Go ahead and help Roland," said Ritsuka.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I have Mashu to protect me, so don't worry. Give your king a piece of your mind."
Tristan plucked out a cheerful ring on his harp. "Thank you, my Master. I will try to end this quickly."
-BREAK-
Roland touched his cheek. A little gash, just two inches long, bloodied where he'd touched. He looked at his fingers, at the red mixing with the silver of his armor.
"To wound my face is an unforgivable sin," said Roland. "But truly, that you were able to is impressive. You are indeed capable of being one of the Nine Worthies."
Artoria didn't break out of battle stance, her steps small and measured as she pointed Excalibur at Roland. "Your skills as a knight are worthy of praise as well. Though you were not a knight under my rule, you surely would have ranked among the Round Table's respected members."
That was putting it lightly. This man was almost on par with Lancelot. She couldn't afford any mistakes.
Roland took note of Artoria's wariness. "To think that I could keep the King of Knights on guard - it is a marvelous feeling." He tapped Durandal'scrossguard. "O Saint Basil the Great, let your miracle burn."
Artoria poised Excalibur in front of her, ready to parry any attack. She felt pinprick sensations on her neck, and she knew her instincts were telling her to be careful.
Roland's armor combusted, flaring away in wavy white flames that coated his body. The flames trickled from his body to Durandal, encasing the black blade in a fluttering coat of white fire.
"Let us up the pace of this dance!" shouted Roland as he surged forward, his entire body a radiant sheen of white hot fire, like he was an infernal spirit. His long rainbow hair, brightened by the light of the fires, glittered with an iridescence that looked almost like a halo.
Artoria put strength into her legs and channeled her magical energy into an explosive burst. She met Roland's charge with her own, much, much faster one. The ground shattered into two pits where her feet were, and she saw Roland's eyes widen as she closed the distance between them far faster than he had expected. She swung her sword, aiming to gut Roland with the tip of her blade.
Roland watched as Artoria stepped into his guard right in the middle of his own blow. By using her explosive speed, she had caught him in the defenseless moment after he swung his blade but before the steel made contact. He smiled.
"It's not that easy," said Roland. His lower body morphed into flames completely, and Excalibur's tip phased through intangible fire. Meanwhile, he pumped strength into his arms, finishing his two handed downward slice on Artoria.
Artoria was prepared. The single second of surprise another fighter might have had at this development was negated by her instinct. She raised her sword above her head and faced its flat towards Roland's hammering strike. She pushed her free palm under Excalibur's flat, making a powerful barrier to intercept Roland's attack.
Durandal bit into Excalibur's flat with a sonic crash, scattering away loose rubble in the area with a booming gust. Artoria gritted her teeth as she channeled magical energy into her arms and legs. She felt her feet sinking into the earth, splitting apart the hard rock as she struggled to push up against Roland's strength.
With another Prana Burst, she parried Roland's strike, slinging away the paladin and sending him soaring into the air.
"Ow!" said Roland as he shook his arms mid-air. He landed to the ground on his feet without a sound, as even his greaves were made of flames now. "You've got a lot of strength for a body that small."
He covered his mouth and coughed. When he drew his hand away, he saw blood. He flicked it away with disgust.
"So this is your Noble Phantasm," said Atoria. "An explosive burst of power that seems to have a burn out effect."
All she needed to do was stay on the defensive, using her Prana Burst to give her the edge needed to hold out. Then, when Roland ran out of his own magical energy, she could end the fight before he could recover.
"Not all of it," said Roland, as if reading her mind. He dashed forward in a flash of flame and swung his sword at Artoria's right side.
Artoria grounded her stance and parried to her left. Durandal slammed into Excalibur, and she found herself flying through the air, seeing charred earth and trees in a tumbling blur as the wind whistled by her ears. She flipped mid-air and dug her heels in the ground, braking to a stop almost fifty meters away. Her arms rang with pain, but she could handle this amount.
Roland was upon her again, his flaming blade shooting forward in a thrust designed to run through her heart. She lurched to her right, feeling the peerless sword slice through her armor without meeting any resistance.
She stood up again, feeling a burning pain throb at her side where Durandal had marked out a shallow wound. She saw Roland in front of her again, appearing in a dazzling flash. Durandal was sharp enough that it didn't matter how tough her armor was. Knowing this, her armor dissipated into blue particles, and she felt energy surging into her body, invigorating her every muscle.
She kicked the ground and pushed herself back, watching Durandal crash into the earth, its steel super-heating the rock around it into a molten slag. Without her armor and with Prana Burst, she could keep this game of chase up.
"What!?" said Roland as a golden spear crashed in front of him, cutting off his pursuit and detonating like a grenade, blasting him away. He traced the weapon's trajectory, his eyes going upwards until they landed on Gilgamesh. The King of Heroes was seated upon a golden throne that floated in the air. On the throne's armrests were several round jewels reminiscent of buttons, and a translucent yellow barrier surrounding the structure in a sturdy sphere.
"I grow tired of this farce, Saber," said Gilgamesh. "I thought of letting you show your worth, but in the end even this dog is savaging you."
Portals in space appeared around Gilgamesh. If the space around Gilgamesh was a sheen of water, then the portals were droplets, distorting their surrounding space with expanding ripples. From these distortions emerged the handles of various weapons, slowly drawing out from the spacial pinpricks, stopping when most of their blades could be seen, as if beckoning to be pulled out.
"Archer, do not interfere in this duel," said Saber.
Gilgamesh laughed and sat back further on his throne. "How your words amuse me. Duel? This is supposed to be an execution, Saber. I entertained your whims in trying to make it a duel, but now I grow bored of it."
He snapped his fingers, and the weapons around him shot forward, spiraling down at Roland, sound waves and golden energy massing at their tips as chaotic yellow auras.
A furious succession of notes, rapid and energetic like a guitar solo, punched through the air, drowning out the chaotic buzz of combat.
Blades of wind soared above Roland, roaring like planes as they crashed into the rain of Noble Phantasms that Gilgamesh loosed. Each and every note of that fervent solo had been transformed into a hundred-fold barrage of sonic slices that formed a whirling tornado around the weapons, breaking apart some into fragments of dissipating steel while flinging the sturdier ones away into the depths of the forest.
"Good sir! So you've come to join the dance!" said Roland.
Tristan had a satisfied smile on his face as he walked beside Roland, his steps bold and swaggering.
"I thought it rude to intrude on a pas de deux," said Tristan as he flicked back his long red hair with a dainty flair. "But once our golden friend here so rudely broke in, I found it my responsibility to level the dancing floor."
The flames around Roland swirled and convulsed, sparkling like gems as he grinned. "The more the merrier, eh?"
Gilgamesh's laugh twisted into a frown. "Broke in? The King is welcome anywhere, and now I fancy myself welcome to enjoy your deaths, curs."
More weapons emerged from the portals surrounding Gilgamesh.
Artoria looked up at Gilgamesh with a conflicted expression. She sighed, and pointed her sword at Roland and Tristan.
"I would have preferred this battle to be a real fight between knights, but my duty comes before my wants," she said, resigning herself to an extermination over a true duel.
Roland snickered. "How arrogant. You think having your friend up there makes this any less of a 'real' fight?"
Tristan readied his hand over his harp's strings. "It does no good to put duty above your wants, my king." He went down on one knee, poising himself to play another explosion of notes. "The hand learns best when it is burned. I shall show you how following duty over desire to the stubborn end can burn."
With battle declarations made, the two teams of servants started their fight anew.
AN:
I've noticed that I haven't been inputting a lot of exposition, so I decided that posting sheets at the end of each update would be a good way to fill in. Anyways, here's Roland's sheet (the parts revealed as of now).
Class: Saber
Master: Ritsuka Fujimaru
True Name: Roland
Strength: B
Endurance: A+
Agility: A
Mana: C
Luck: B
NP: A+
Class Skills:
Magic Resistance: A
Riding: A+
Personal Skills:
Battle Continuation: A
Roland's primary trait is his stubborn endurance, which is apparent in both his mind and body. Fatal wounds will not lay him low, and he can continue to fight as long as his body can physically move.
Holy Aegis: B+++
The divine protection and favor offered to Roland throughout his life. Through battles against demons and monsters, through times when he was struck mad and defenseless, through battlefields were countless thousands died, Roland survived, blessed with a protection from the fates above. This skill grants Roland the capability to pass luck checks, resist mental interference, and nullify any attacks or spells that would try to alter his fate in the long run. As such, curses and status effects like poison are useless against him. Triple modifier is present against any attacks from the categories listed above that are from non-Christian sources.
Eternal Arms Mastery: A
Roland was completely unmatched in his lifetime as a paladin. Among his peers, all of whom rank as heroic spirits, he shone far and above. He was the one man army of Charlemagne, defeating any and all that challenged him, brought low only because of maddening love and destructive selfishness.
Noble Phantasm(s):
Durandal
"The Peerless Blade"
Rank: A+
The blessed sword granted to Roland from the heavens. It is called the sharpest sword in existence, and no armor or defenses can defend against its unyielding edge. The blade is also indestructible, incapable of suffering any residual damage or even being used as a broken phantasm.
Its main strengths lie in the miracles within its crossguard.
Blood of St. Basil of Caesarea: A miracle derived from the patron of exorcisms and a staunch opponenent against heresy. This miracle, when activated, enforces upon Roland a fiery aspect of judgement representing the fires from heaven, granting all of his attacks an eroding effect against non-Christian mystery. In this manner, the flames this miracle produces can destroy foreign magecraft and even damage opposing Noble Phantasms. It also grants a rank up to strength, endurance, and agility. These effects are heightened by Roland's second Noble Phantasm.
Hair of St. Denis: Denis is the patron of France, and the name that the military invokes in its battles. He is the rallying point upon which entire armies find strength. The saint himself was a bastion of perseverance, keeping his faith alive even after being decapitated. By invoking this miracle, Roland has St. Denis's abilities transfigured to his being, granting him a rank up to endurance and magic resistance. In addition, his battle continuation becomes EX ranked, allowing him to stay alive even after decapitation. He can also extend any defensive bonuses he experiences towards his allies, albeit as an one time use. These effects can be heightened by Roland's second Noble Phantasm.
Proteus Armure
Rank: D+++
The legendary armor of Hector of Troy, passed down through the generations to Roland. This armor was what Roland had through each and every one of his battles from the start of his adventures to the end of his life. This Noble Phantasm was the trusty beginner's item that Roland faithfully carried with him, and it can be said to be his true Noble Phantasm; one that he cherished and grew himself.
The original abilities of Hector's armor have worn away over the generations, leaving a D rank set of armor that leaves much to be desired. What the armor does have is an infinite potential for growth.
The armor still has the scrappy nature of Hector imbued in it. The great warrior Hector was the prime model of human achievement and also moderation. The man was neither the most skilled nor the most blessed by the gods, but he edged to the top of all of Troy through his own craftiness and wits. By constantly taking any chances he could, seizing every opportunity, and making any potential improvements, Hector built himself up to be better than the fiercesome Achaeans that opposed him.
As a result, the armor has the capacity to grow an affinity to any concept, and also enhance itself based on whatever concept is affixed to it. Even something as mundane as modern tempered steel being welded on to the armor becomes a conceptual improvement, strengthening the armor even if the modern steel is far less durable than it in actuality.
The fact that the armor looks like a glorious suit of silver armor befitting a great knight is because of Roland's wishes to make it appear so, adapting its appearance to his taste
Due to how closely Roland used this armor, it is spiritually tied to him, being part of his saint graph at its core.
Roland can channel the miracles of Durandal into his armor, and by extension to his own body, thus gaining the aspects of the saints held within these miracles. In this way, he becomes something similar to a Phantom, gaining skills and even additional Noble Phantasms from whatever Saint he is invoking that mix with his original skillset.
In the case of Saint Basil, Roland gains Basil's anti-heresy Noble Phantasm that represents the pure flames of heaven that cast out blasphemy. By fusing it with his armor, he becomes the embodiment of heaven's judgement; the swelling flames that swallowed down the enemies of Israel and set alight the path for Moses. Roland, and by extension Durandal, become vessels for heaven's fire to strike down all heretical enemies. In this manner, Roland can make parts of his body intangible as flame. However, St. Basil was known as an ascetic and an ardent worker who slowly destroyed his body with fatigue and hunger in the pursuit of his faith. That self-destructiveness is present in a burning out effect attached to Roland's fusion Noble Phantasm with Basil, which is further exacerbated by the fact that such a fusion is already unstable.
